


My turn

by artfulinanities



Series: Just Some Tumblr Things... [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bum worship, Coming Untouched, M/M, Rimming, Rimming against the fridge, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6811984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artfulinanities/pseuds/artfulinanities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Problem?” It comes out breathy and soft, heat pooling between his legs.</p>
<p>“You keep groping my arse.” John leans closer, staring up at him with dark eyes.</p>
<p>Sherlock blinks, something cold blooming in his stomach. “Oh. I thought you…”</p>
<p>“No,” John growls, nipping along Sherlock’s throat, making his knees weak. “I love it.”</p>
<p>“Than what…?”</p>
<p>“It’s my turn now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My turn

**Author's Note:**

> There were lots of bum appreciation things on my dash...so this happened. I'm sorry?
> 
>  
> 
> No, no I'm not.

Sherlock peers over the eyepieces of his microscope, gaze drawn to the curve of John’s arse. The way John is standing at the counter pulls his trousers tight across the powerful curve of his thighs and the round swell of his backside, making Sherlock’s mouth dry. He stands, sliding up behind his lover (a tiny thrill running down his spine at the title) and cupping one cheek in his hand. John shivers, pressing back into the contact as Sherlock stoops to kiss his neck, kneading the firm muscle beneath his palm.

“ _Christ_ ,” John hisses, grabbing Sherlock’s writs and flipping them around, pinning Sherlock to the fridge. Sherlock stares down at him in surprise, feeling heat rise to his cheeks at John’s blatant show of strength.

“Problem?” It comes out breathy and soft, heat pooling between his legs.

“You keep groping my arse.” John leans closer, staring up at him with dark eyes.

Sherlock blinks, something cold blooming in his stomach. “Oh. I thought you…”

“No,” John growls, nipping along Sherlock’s throat, making his knees weak. “I love it.”

“Than what…?”

“It’s my turn now.” John slides his hands down Sherlock’s sides, slipping around to cup both cheeks of his arse. The pressure is firm, but teasing, sparking something molten and throbbing low in his belly. “My turn to make you squirm, keep you wanting and aching.” John slips his hands back around to Sherlock’s front, skimming down his hips and back up to glide teasing fingers along the join of buttocks and thigh.

“John…” Sherlock lets his head fall back against the door of the fridge, his prick filling rapidly, trousers growing tight.

“Like that, love?” John sweeps his palms up over both generous cheeks, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of tailored trousers to tease the top of Sherlock’s crease through the thin fabric of his pants. The sensation is odd, but the idea of what’s yet to come makes Sherlock whine. Chuckling, John nips along his jaw, pausing to suck on the tender patch of skin behind one ear. Sherlock’s cock gives a twitch, a small patch of wetness blooming on the front of his pants. He groans, hips thrusting minutely, seeking friction.

“Mm, none of that yet.” John pulls back, swooping his hands around to the front of Sherlock’s trousers, unfastening the clasp and pulling them down around Sherlock’s thighs, leaving him in his pants, the damp patch clinging to the bulge of his cock. “Turn around for me, gorgeous.” John makes a twirling motion with his finger and Sherlock complies, bracing himself on his forearms against their fridge. The steel is cool against his heated skin, making him shiver. John presses up behind him, reaching around and unbuttoning his shirt, fingers stopping to pinch and roll his nipples, the pleasure sparking an answering throbbing in his groin. Kissing down his spine, John leaves Sherlock’s shirt hanging open, moving to nip lightly at his arse. Sherlock gives a started cry, pushing back. John braces firm hands on his hips, kissing from one clothed cheek to the other, inching up to take the band of his pants between his teeth. He pulls the elastic back and lets it snap lightly against Sherlock’s skin, fingers dropping down to press against his entrance through the thin cotton.

“Oh, God. _John_.”

“Alright, love?” John pauses, hands stilling.

“Don’t stop!”

John reaches up, easing the band of Sherlock’s pants over his leaking erection, pulling them and his trousers down to pool at his ankles, He helps Sherlock kick them aside and kneels behind him, cupping and massaging the muscles, pulling his cheeks apart. Sherlock lets out a groan as John licks at his entrance. He can feel himself twitching under John’s ministrations, the flat sweeps of tongue and pointed licks at his hole making his legs shake. Something hot and tight coils at the base of his spine, leaving his trembling and panting, his breath leaving foggy patches against the steel door of the fridge.

“John. Close. Touch me. _Please._  Oh, God!” 

“I think you can come like this, don’t you?” John’s voice is raspy, his mouth relentless, and Sherlock can feel his orgasm looming. Suddenly, a slick finger slides in beside John’s tongue, the burn lending a bright edge to his pleasure.

“ _Ah_!” 

“Good?”

Sherlock can only sob in response, nodding his head, his forehead leaving a sweaty smear on his forearms. And like that, John’s tongue is back, working alongside those clever fingers to take him apart. John’s finger slides deeper, crooking and pressing against his prostate and Sherlock’s whole body goes rigid. Keening, he arches back, rising up onto the balls of his bare feet as his orgasm rips through him, leaving him dizzy and breathless. Streams of ejaculate spatter the fridge and Sherlock groans, slumping back into John’s waiting arms. Pressing a soft kiss to his temple, John scoops him into a bridal hold, carrying him into their bedroom and depositing him on the bed. The sound of running water drifts in from the loo and Sherlock stirs, blinking up at John as he runs a damp flannel over his soft cock and down between his cheeks. The subtle aroma of toothpaste teases his nose when John bends and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. Sherlock turns his head to follow him, but John pulls away with a ruffle to his curls, disappearing into the kitchen.

At some point, John is there again, helping him out of his shirt and curling up beside him in bed, naked bodies pressed together. “Was that good, love?”

“Mmm.” Sherlock nuzzles at John’s neck, curling up against his chest. “Brilliant.” Sighing, he snakes a hand around to cup John’s arse, smiling into John’s skin. “And tomorrow, it’s _my_  turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Drop by and say hello on [my Tumblr](http://artfulinanities.tumblr.com/)


End file.
